


Sad Prayers For Guilty Bodies

by sabbypandawan



Category: Glee
Genre: Consensual Infidelity, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Homophobic Language, M/M, mentions of Klaine with OC's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 17:52:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2516594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabbypandawan/pseuds/sabbypandawan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When love finds you again, even though you thought it was too late, even though it's wrong to be found, what do you do? Blaine and Kurt are stuck in loveless, unhappy marriages. This is the story of how they manage to break free together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sad Prayers For Guilty Bodies

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So, I decided to write this oneshot to overcome writer's block, and because the idea wouldn't leave me alone. I basically took the lyrics and wrote a correspondent drabble for the lines in italics. If you want to listen to the song, I strongly encourage you to do so, but be warned: the vocals are a lot to get used to.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!

_They stored their passion in the creases in the corners of their mouths…  
_

The screeching and grating tone of his wife's voice wasn't doing its usual job of fading into white nose. Maybe that's because the things coming out of her mouth were, unbelievably, even more malicious than usual.

"You are such a pathetic little wimp, God, how I ended up with someone like you… I bet you broke the condom on purpose so I'd be tied to you, didn't you? I wouldn't even be surprised, since all you've done since the second you walked into my life is MOTHERFUCKING RUIN IT!"

She was breathing heavily as she stared at his blank face, taking a few moments before she continued in a deadly quiet voice, "I wish I'd had that abortion – no, I wish  _you_ had never been born in the first place, so you couldn't have destroyed any chance at happiness I ever fucking had. I hope you die on the way to your fucking hotel, I hope you wrap your car around a tree and just slowly  _burn_ to death until-"

SLAM. The door banged close behind him. As Blaine got behind the wheel and revved the engine, getting ready for yet another business trip for a job he couldn't care less for, it wasn't the first time that he had hoped for her all her ill-willed wishes to come true.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, in a shoebox apartment wildly different from the mansion that just saw a woman throw an expensive piece of china at the door her husband exited through, another man was lying on the only lavish piece of furniture to litter the… room. The niches in the walls that were supposed to make up the kitchen and the second bedroom didn't qualify as actual rooms, if you asked him. But there wasn't much more they could afford on his husband's income as a, if he was being honest, talentless artist in a city full of younger and more gifted hopefuls, and his own low position at a high-end and very corporate fashion magazine. Tears cascaded down Kurt's face as he clutched yet another reminder notice to his chest and dreamed of a time when he was so uninhibited in his ambitions and unlimited in his chances, of a world where they weren't squashed by the person who was supposed to want him to succeed more than anything.

 

_Every angle of light from the open window washed their aged faces out._

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Blaine spoke from the bed, as Kurt stood by the window of the hotel room and admired the view of the city. There was a time he deemed it beautiful, the flashing lights and tall buildings and busy hustle on the streets, and he swore to himself he'd never forget how he felt about it in the first place, but he'd let it slip from his mind. After the first year married to him, after the bills went unpaid more often than not, after the lights stopped shining hope and instead became a symbol for cataclysm and squalor.

Arms wrapped around his waist from behind, strong and warm and secure, not gripping too tightly, not painful and unwelcome. And he closed his eyes, let himself think back to a different time, let his mind spin a story of what-ifs and if-onlys.

"I'm sure," he whispered and turned his head to the side, finally opening his eyes again to look at the face that brought it all back, that reminded him, that provoked the feeling of possibility in him once more, and those eyes that induced fire and water and prosperity where there was once just a vast, empty desert. In the luminous glow of artificial bulbs casting their faces in enough shadows for him to pretend the what-ifs were reality, he pressed their lips together, their wedding bands forgotten on the end table by the door.

 

_"Should we feel guilty?" they said. "Should we feel guilty for this sin?  
Lord, did we kill a man and woman, just to lie here skin to skin?"_

"Blaine," Kurt gasped, his back arching, fingers digging into Blaine's shoulder blades. Blaine's weight was resting almost completely on top of him, just the way he liked it, holding him down as he thrust into him over and over again. Their noses were touching, mouths panting against one another and every once in a while attempting a sloppy kiss, which was broken by Kurt whining against Blaine's lips every time he glided over Kurt's prostate. The sweat they were working up made it so Blaine's skin dragged against his perfectly, a slick slide that made him shiver and moan, removed from the other slick sensation of Blaine pushing inside of him but somehow blurred together nonetheless.

"So tight… God, Kurt… you're so tight around me, it's like your ass is… is trying to keep me from… shit… pulling out…" Blaine grit out between his clenched teeth, his brow furrowed as droplets of sweat made their track down his face.

Kurt shakily stuck out his tongue to catch one of them, licking from the line of Blaine's jaw to his ear, where he bit down on the lobe before whispering, "Then don't. Don't pull out, don't ever stop, f-fuck me deeper…"

Blaine complied, stroking down Kurt's arms, his chest, pinching his nipples before returning to his sides, sending shivers through Kurt when his fingers danced over his ribs and dug into the supple flesh of his ass, before his hands came to rest on the back of his thighs in an almost bruising grip. He pushed them up, up, hooked Kurt's knees over the crook of his elbows and leaned back down to slide his tongue between his lips once more. They both quietly marveled at how flexible Kurt was despite his age, before another slam of Blaine's hips made them both moan lewdly. The new angle made it so every time Blaine fucked into Kurt, he'd hit his prostate dead on, causing him to cry out and writhe beneath his lover, like he was trying to escape from the onslaught of pleasure. Kurt's fingernails scratched down Blaine's back, leaving marks of his passion, before his arms fell limply to his sides in his inability to focus on anything but the hardness between his legs, and the toned body rubbing against his own, and the weight of a lover on top of him. All he could do was take it; before Blaine had come along, he had forgotten how much he loved that, had forgotten that this could feel good, too, and not just be a perfunctory obligation to someone whose last name he shared.

"Fuck, look at you… Just made to be fucked by my cock… Your greedy little hole is loving this, isn't it? Love me stuffing it over and over, you love me using you, such a perfect little slut," Blaine panted. He grabbed Kurt's hands and pulled them up until they were resting next to his head, holding them there, stifling his movements as he pressed and fucked him into the mattress. "I want you to come from my cock alone. Do you think you can do that, baby? Do you think your hungry, little hole will be satisfied with that?" He swept down to start sucking on Kurt's neck, ramming himself in vigorously and groaning as his lover clenched down on him and whimpered, "yes, yes Blaine, yes, just, please harder, faster… want to feel you for days… Please, please…"

Kurt begging so prettily made Blaine bite down on his neck to keep from whimpering himself. He slowed down, though, instead of adhering to Kurt's request, which made the pale man emit another string of, "no, please keep going, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease…" He almost listened, but instead focused on bringing both of Kurt's hands up above his head and gripping the wrists with one of his own, while the other moved to stroke his cheek. One of Kurt's knees was now hooked over Blaine's shoulder, while the other was still pushed up next to Kurt's torso and folded over Blaine's arm, and they both keened because the position allowed Blaine to bury himself even deeper, so deep that it felt like there wasn't a millimeter of his dick that wasn't being squeezed by Kurt's tight heat.

Kurt stared up at Blaine, who had, cruelly, stilled completely after sinking in so deep, it felt like he was almost in his belly. His ocean eyes locked on the mossy ones suddenly regarding him with such sweet emotion. His own softened in response, his lower half stopped squirming desperately and he just let himself be amazed by the sensations coursing through him, by Blaine's beauty and how perfectly they fit together. Blaine's hand cupped his jaw while his thumb continued to stroke tenderly over the hot skin covering his high cheekbones.

"I love you," he whispered and, although it wasn't the first time he had said it, everything inside of Kurt exploded in joy. A soft, but beaming smile found its way to his face, and he turned his head slightly to kiss Blaine's palm.

"I love you, too. I love you so much."

No more words were necessary as their eyes closed simultaneously and their lips locked. Blaine started to roll his hips again, first slowly, then increasingly picking up his pace, but their lips never left each other for long. The sound of their keening and moaning and groaning filled the space around them, becoming louder as they each got closer until, with an incoherent yell expressing pleasure that made a rainbow burst behind his eyelids and his entire body lock around Blaine's, Kurt came untouched, his seed painting both of them white. Blaine followed soon after, finding his release and spilling inside of Kurt, marking him in the most intimate ways and riding it out until he collapsed on top of him, the two of them a breathless, boneless heap of calm elation.

 

_"I wasn't happy. I wasn't happy where I was.  
What is life without a purpose? What is purpose without love?"_

"So you're really doing this, huh?" Kurt didn't answer as he continued to throw his clothes into bags, perhaps a little less carefully than he usually would. His husband – ex-husband, his mind corrected him, although they were still technically married – was standing near the door to their former bedroom with his arms crossed. He was too calm, his demeanor making Kurt uneasy, but he wasn't going to let it show. He just continued packing up his belongings, going for the secret drawer with his family heirlooms, namely his mother's favorite brooch and his parents' wedding bands. The fact that he needed to go to such lengths as hiding the only memorabilia he had of his parents for fear of his husband selling them for some quick cash should have tipped him off long ago.

"Are you at least gonna tell me his name?"

Kurt remained silent.

After a while, there was a disbelieving huff, the first signs of his ex's calm exterior finally cracking. "I gave you everything, Kurt. I gave you my heart, my entire life, and you're gonna throw it away for some cheap new thrill? I always supported you in everything, even if –"

Kurt shot up from where he had been bending over his bag and turned to him, eyes dangerously narrowed and nostrils flaring.

"You supported me?" His voice was quiet and calm and dripping with poison. "In, in what way, exactly? Did you ever provide for us? Did you ever not blow any small amount of cash you made on booze? Did you ever get a  _real_ fucking job once you realized that you're not going to take off as an artist?" He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. "It was always me who had to make ends meet. It was also me who had to sacrifice every opportunity Isabelle presented me with, on a silver platter, because you didn't want me to travel, because you wanted to be the big man bringing in the cash and couldn't handle that I might be more successful than you. It's not only that you never helped support  _us_ ," he emphasized the word, "financially. I don't mind being poor, I've been raised to appreciate the simple life. It's that you never supported me personally, or my passions or my career, either. No, in fact, you destroyed it." He laughed derisively at what he was about to say next. "You didn't even  _support_  me when my father died, you weren't there to help with arranging the funeral or the wake or, God, even for me to fall into your arms and cry, you had  _more important things to do_ than be there for me." He shook his head as he zipped up the last bag and stalked to the door, where a large suitcase and another bag had already been deposited. "Face it; even if there never had been anyone else, it was only a matter of time before I finally got the guts to leave. You might be a loser, and I might not have seen it before, but I'd rather die than let you drag me down any more. No more."

He opened the door and managed to get out and get it closed before the fist could connect with his face, hearing the loud thud against the wood and a yell of pain followed by, "fuck you, you fucking whore! Don't you dare come crawling back when he leaves you!" but he just kept walking. He met Blaine at the bottom of the staircase just as they'd arranged before.

"How'd it go?" he asked softly as he took the suitcase from Kurt, motioning for him to hand over one of the bags as well, but Kurt shook his head.

"I got it, thanks. It went exactly how I expected it would. He reacted like your wife-"

"Ex-wife."

"Yeah, well, like she did, tried to guilt-trip me before throwing a punch." He saw Blaine's eyes flare up in anger and his entire posture tense, his back stiffen and his fists clench and his jaw set, and leaned in to kiss him in hopes of calming him down. "I dodged, baby. I heard his hand hit the door before he started screaming expletives. Let's hope he broke it," he added with a malicious glint in his eyes. "Can't paint very well without his hand, can he?"

Blaine just looked at him with wide eyes before he burst into laughter, pulling Kurt to his side with his free arm as they strode to the exit and left the building.

"You're something else, Hummel. A real fox when you want to be."

Kurt shrugged and smirked. "Take me home, Anderson, and I'll show you exactly how much of a fox I really am."

Blaine's eyes darkened and he licked his lips, his hand squeezing briefly before he let go of Kurt's side to motion for a cab, offering to pay the driver double if he got them to their new apartment as fast as possible. It was fairly big, with spare rooms for when Blaine's kids came to visit, which meant there was a lot of ground to cover if they planned on going through with christening every inch of it.

 

_"I pray my children will forgive me, though I bade the river flood._  
I have washed my hands a thousand times but still can see the blood.  
 _Oh, great mercy, I am here to beg forgiveness for this mess.  
_ _I know I tore two worlds apart but I can't change the way I felt."_

Kurt opened the door after a long day at work. He had sat with Isabelle for most of the afternoon, telling her everything he'd neglected to mention to her about meeting Blaine and leaving his husband and everything that led him to that decision. It felt strangely liberating; after the umpteenth time he declined traveling with her to Europe for Fashion Week, or presenting some of his designs to labels, she'd started to withdraw from her role as his "fairy godmother". However, now that he was able to explain his actions… well, needless to say, she welcomed him back with open arms.

He found Blaine sitting on one of the stools by the breakfast nook, staring down at the amber liquid of the scotch he was swirling around in his glass. Kurt put down his bag and his jacket and made his way over to him.

"What's wrong? What did she do this time?"

"Who says anything's wrong, or that it has anything to do with her? I had a long, taxing day at work and –"

"Don't give me that bullshit, Blaine. You have wine when it's work-related. It helps you relax. Scotch is for forgetting. And after saying that, I really hope you don't turn into an alcoholic."

Blaine looked up with a twinkle in his eyes and set the glass down before pulling Kurt in his lap, wrapping his arms around his waist and burying his face in his neck. "I'd never turn into an alcoholic. I have you now. I don't need to resort to other stress reliefs."

Kurt smiled and pressed a soft kiss to the top of Blaine's head, his own arms going around the curly-headed man's shoulders. Aware that Blaine would talk to him when he felt good and ready, he didn't press the matter, just continued to hold him and let himself be held as he drew soothing patterns on his back. Blaine hummed, then chuckled against his skin when he realized Kurt was drawing a sun with a smiley face on his shoulder.

"You know, almost 18 years with her, 16 of those married… and she never once knew how to calm me down like you do. This sounds so cheesy, but… I never realized how much I needed… someone to actually know me, someone to hold me, who would call me out on my bullshit and then find a way to make… just everything… seem not so bad. Because I get to be with them, and that's worth it." When Blaine looked up, he found Kurt staring down at him adoringly, his eyes suspiciously wet before he shook his head and laughed it off. It broke Blaine's heart to know that a small ounce of kindness, like praising Kurt and expressing his gratitude for him could bring him to tears, but he'd sworn long ago that he'd rebuild everything that bastard had shattered over the years.

"You're so getting laid tonight," the pale man joked on top of him, still trying to dispel the indefinable tension that had left him choked up.

Blaine smiled and leaned up to kiss the corner of Kurt's mouth. "I always do, darling. You don't exactly play hard to get." Then he sighed and closed his eyes, expecting the jab to his side and laughing when Kurt delivered it. They were quiet after that, Blaine trying to find a way to broach the subject and Kurt waiting him out, knowing he needed his time.

"Brendon said he didn't want to see me anymore. Hailey is more understanding, I mean, she doesn't like it but she's 17 now and she understands the words her mother hurled at me at every corner. She's smart and she thinks for herself, and she says she gets why I left, but Brendon… she's poisoned his mind. She's told him all kinds of horrible things about me, and, and…" He took a deep shuddering breath. "He told me he prays that I die every night, that we both die because that's what fags like us deserved. And that he'd rather tell everyone I'm actually dead than admit that his father is a cocksucker now. I swear, it was like he had channeled her, and it just… it hurts so fucking much."

A sob wracked his body, then another, until he was crying so hard that he literally soaked the shoulder of Kurt's shirt. Kurt was at a loss; he couldn't make it better, couldn't even begin to solve this, so he kept whispering about how amazing Blaine was, what a great father he was and that Brendon would come around, that they couldn't help falling in love with each other, and that their love was pure and beautiful and nothing to be condemned, and it would be okay, it's okay, it's okay; he continued to hold Blaine until the man collapsed against him, at which point he carried him to bed and tried his best to keep him together with his arms, to contain his shattered heart and keep him safe.

 

_"Love swept in like a storm and ripped the hinges from the doors.  
Love poured in like a flood, I couldn't stop it anymore. I will not be drowned."_

"But I just don't understand," Rachel yammered down the line. Kurt rolled his eyes, remembering why he didn't call her more than twice a year anymore. Well, it partly had to do with the fact that she had achieved all her goals while he just cocooned himself away in his miserable existence, but he definitely didn't miss her judgmental 'holier-than-thou' attitude. "The Kurt I knew would never have gotten involved with a married man. A married man with kids, nonetheless. Or cheated on his own husband, for that matter."

Kurt closed his eyes and forced himself to take five deep, measured breaths before replying.

"I fell in love, Rachel. I'm sorry that causes you to see me in a different light,"  _well, I'm not really sorry at all,_  he thought, "but that's how it is. It's not like I didn't fight it, I fought it tooth and nail, actually. It's not like I didn't try to avoid it. But I was in up to my neck before I even realized what was happening, and I didn't feel like clawing my way to the surface anymore, so I just let myself float. And I'm happy now. I'm happier than I've ever been. I will  _not_ let you destroy that, like you try to with everything else that doesn't fit your vision. I won't let anyone drag me under again."

He hung up before she could reply.

 

_He said, "Lover, come and hold me, I am terribly afraid._  
While you're shouting at the stars, my scars are not fading away."  
He said, "Darling, I was begging heaven make them disappear, but,  
See, I didn't get an answer or at least one I could hear."

There was a big merger coming up, and Blaine's workload had been out of this world for the past few weeks because of it. In an effort not to spend 16 hours at the office, he'd taken some of it home with him, but he was currently just staring at the screen while Kurt was quietly fuming behind him, putting away the remnants of his now-cold dinner he hadn't gotten up to eat with him.

A loud clank echoed around them, followed by a sniffle, then another, then a choked sob. Blaine knew, though only superficially, why Kurt was crying; he knew Kurt was marked and damaged in ways he couldn't begin to understand. Kurt didn't just have demons – sometimes it seemed like Satan himself was torturing his boyfriend. He tried to be the most attentive boyfriend he could, but with the recent developments at his job, there was no way he could avoid neglecting Kurt, even if it was just a little bit. Attempts at making it up to him made him smile minutely, but weren't effective in the long run, not when he had to leave before Kurt got up and only returned long after he'd gone to bed most days.

He braced himself for the inevitable breakdown, wishing for the hundredth time that he could make all the blemishes the past had left on Kurt vanish, but promising to love him and comfort him even if he couldn't.

When he reached the kitchen, Kurt had his arms wrapped around himself, like his chest was sliced open and he was struggling to keep his innards where they belonged, shaking and fighting to keep his breathing regular. Blaine pulled him close, despite his feeble protests, to keep the seams together for him and ease his load, kissing his forehead, kissing away the tear tracks, wordlessly vowing he wouldn't give up on him with his unwavering gaze.

 

_"Now, I am thinking of the past and how we both said vows and lied and  
I am wondering how we trust ourselves to say a second time…"_

They lay beside each other, not a sound to be heard other than the regular background music of traffic outside and their labored breathing.

"Are we really doing this?" Kurt asked after a while, turning his head to take in Blaine's profile, his boyfriend's – no, fiancé's – chest still heaving from their romp.

"Yeah. Yeah, I mean…" Blaine turned on his side and took Kurt's hand. At the feel of the cool metal in contrast to his soft skin, his chest felt ready to burst with joy; safe for a tiny dark spot somewhere deep and almost hidden, a box filled with all his fears and doubts for the future that sometimes opened and made thoughts he didn't usually allow run rampant in his mind. "Don't you want to anymore? Did you change your mind?"

Kurt shook his head emphatically. "No. Definitely not. I want this, I want everything with you, it's just…" Blaine felt the pale man's fingers tremble in his own. "Don't you ever ask yourself why this time should be different than before?"

Blaine was quiet for a while. The truth was, yes, he did wonder; but then he remembered how his first marriage came to be, that it had been built on lies and convenience and a feeling of duty from the start, as opposed to love.

"I have," he admitted. "But this… you and I? I've never felt anything like this before. Not only because my last marriage was a sham and only happened because I knocked her up, and because it helped build a nice nest in the linen closet," he tried to joke, and Kurt chuckled, even though Blaine suspected it was out of pity or politeness. He appreciated the gesture. "I can feel that this is right. This is where I was supposed to end up. Here with you. Gay, straight, bi, I don't even care, because I don't love your gender. I love everything about you. You heard the reasons today in the speech, though I could never begin to sum up how utterly wonderful and lovely you are, because I don't love you just because there's reasons to love you; I love you because I simply… do. Because there's no way for me not to."

Kurt's smile was radiant, his eyes sparkling with happiness as he rolled on top of Blaine.

"I feel exactly the same way. My first marriage… Looking back, I know I was with him because I didn't think I'd ever find anyone else. I didn't think I deserved better. But you…" He kissed the tip of Blaine's nose, still beaming. "He always supported that notion. But you've not only shown me that I'm entitled to more, you are it. You are the 'someone more' I was looking for."

They made love over and over again that night, slow and sweet, rough and fast, and everything in between. Completely spent, they collapsed in the wee hours of the morning, their bodies entwining from head to toe on no conscious decision on their part. The little black box in Blaine's soul had all but evaporated by the time they fell asleep.

 

_"'To have and to hold,_  
From this day and onward,  
For better or for worse,  
For richer, for poorer,  
In sickness and in health,  
To love and to cherish  
Till death do us part.'"

Blaine and Kurt had wanted to keep things small, so they'd only invited their closest friends and some non-judgmental members of their families. The ceremony was held simple, in their own home which had enough space for the few people gathering to attend their nuptials, although Kurt definitely hadn't hesitated to splurge on the décor. Blaine had only managed to dissuade him from setting real doves free by promising him a Harry Potter themed chocolate fountain, and as they shared their vows and the priest declared them husband and husband, as Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's shoulders and Blaine's went around his waist and their lips met in a fierce kiss that caused the crowd to whoop and cat-call, he found that he really couldn't mourn the lack of birds fluttering around them.  
Not when they both had everything they ever wanted, right there in their arms.


End file.
